Page 100 of The Drummer

“Shit,” I mutter, running a hand over my face.

Now what?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Alone in the kitchen, I have no idea what to do next.

I can’t go after her. Feeling like shit about what just happened doesn’t change any of the realities that made it happen in the first place.

I also can’t imagine stewing on the couch for the rest of the day. Plus, I’m feeling claustrophobic again. After the compounding stressors of this morning from hell, I need something physical. I learned a long time ago, if I make my body hurt, it can ease the pressure on my mind.

The gym is busy but not packed. Would it have mattered if it was? In my current state, I would have picked up the last remaining free weight and lifted it in endless reps until my arm gave out.

After a warm-up mile on the treadmill, I start working on my shoulders. Ten minutes into my reps, a disturbing sensation of being watched chills my sweaty skin. I make a discreet scan of my surroundings, and my stomach rolls when I spot him.

What the fuck is he doing here?

Our eyes graze each other long enough for Orin Cantea to assume it’s an invitation to approach. He occupies the emptymachine next to me, and I grit my teeth as I go back to my workout. This is the last thing I need right now.

“Hey, Casey. Good to see you again.”

I toss a curt nod in his direction and pretend to be engrossed in my workout. Not that narcissists like him give a shit if their desires are inconvenient to other people.

His invasive stare makes the vibe flat-out creepy as I work out beneath his intense scrutiny. I’m not particularly interested in giving him a show.

A few minutes in, I let the bar drop and sit up on the bench. Grabbing a towel, I wipe the sweat from my neck and face as I twist toward him.

“How can I help you, Orin?”

His sly grin makes it clear he didn’t catch my irritation—or doesn’t care.

“Actually, it’s the other way around. It seems I may be in a position to helpyou.”

Something twists in my gut at the way his gaze travels over me.

“Yeah? How’s that?” I take the bait, mostly because I need to know what sick plan he has cooking and if it’s another threat we’ll have to prepare for.

“Your boy had a busy night in the news cycle. Things are looking pretty bleak for him and the future of your band.”

“And?”

“And I can help spin it for you.”

I return a tight smile. “Thanks for the offer, but we already have our people on it.”

He smirks. “You know your people are owned by mypeople, right?”

My fingers clench around the towel. “Right, well, it’s not really my call anyway. The Label is handling the PR for now. You’ll have to contact them for a statement.”

“Word isthe Labelisn’t so happy with you either. How long isthat going to last? What happens to you and Luke when they decide it’s not their problem anymore?”

My gaze darts to his before I can stop it. His smile grows until it’s downright chilling.

“What are you talking about?” I hedge. I know, obviously, but I want to see what he knows, and have no intention of giving more away than I already have.

“Come on. You’re smarter than that. You’ve been in the game long enough to know how this works.”

“Apparently not, because I have no idea where you’re going with this.”

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